


To the Store, To the Store

by caramelle



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, basically kate is Done with seth's drama queen tendencies and is Having None Of It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:00:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: "Excuse you, princess—" the man starts to say, uncrossing his muscled arms.She sighs, watching the cashier scan her own purchases. "Look, guy, I get it, okay? You're an independent adult, you can afford your own beer. Whatever, just take it as a favour from a very exhausted fellow customer who just really wants to go home and inhale one of these in, like, fifteen minutes flat," she says, gesturing at the two ice cream pints on the counter. She pauses to glance up at the tattooed man still staring her down, offering him a careless shrug. "A little neighbourly kindness, okay?""Not familiar with the concept," he snaps.  Or, the one where Kate somehow always manages to find herself at the same grocery checkout line as a handsome, surly stranger in black.





	

**Author's Note:**

> right off the bat, i feel that i should confirm that yes the title is indeed from Carly Rae Jepsen's seminal classic 'Store' and also that i feel absolutely zero shame in admitting that.
> 
> secondly, no, i was not paid by Ben & Jerry's. yes i wish i was paid by Ben & Jerry's. but, neither Ben nor Jerry have any idea who i am, and thus, i am not.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In all honesty, everything that's happening to Kate right now is probably really just Dan's fault.

 

At least, his name tag says 'Dan'.

 

Whatever. It's nearly twelve freaking A.M., there're about _two_ other customers left in the store, she's had a long ass day, and by this point, she _really_ couldn't care less what her _own_ name is.

 

Whoever the kid working the checkout register is, he's 'Dan' in her head now. He's also bouncing nervously from one foot to the other behind the counter as he tries to explain to his current customer, for the _third time_ , that he doesn't _have_ enough change for a hundred-dollar bill.

 

The man in front of Kate groans, scrubbing a rough hand over his face. "So open up one of these other cash boxes," he barks impatiently, waving around at the empty registers. "Either that or start me a fucking tab, 'cause a hundo's all I _got_ , kid."

 

Kate rolls her eyes at Dan's weak, stuttering response before gritting her teeth, reining in her frustration, and stepping forward.

 

"It's fine, I'll take care of it," she says, shoving a ten-dollar bill at Dan. He instantly reaches out towards it with both hands like it's some kind of lifeline, desperate gratitude shining in his eyes.

 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the man in front of her interrupts harshly, one arm shooting out to block her attempt to hand Dan the money. "Don't remember asking for your input on this, princess.”

 

She bristles, irrationally irritated at the nickname. It’s probably just a turn of phrase, something he says all the time — but right now, it feels a lot more like a personal insult. Plus, on her already fragile nerves, it's _especially_ grating.

 

“It’s _ten_ _dollars_ ,” she snaps, waving her hand in an attempt to bypass his arm. “Just _take_ it already and move on.”

 

“And I said, I don't _need_ your help,” the man growls at her, elbowing her hand away again. “John over here is gonna take care of it for me. Aren't you, John?” he demands, turning his glare back on the skinny cashier.

 

The kid trembles, glancing at Kate as if begging for a rescue. “L-like I said, sir, I'd be happy to take a card—”

 

“And like _I_ said,” the man bites out, “cash is all I got on me right now. So come on, John, do me a solid and break my Benjamin, huh?”

 

“His _name_ ,” Kate cuts in through her clenched jaw, “is _Dan_.”

 

The man looks at her then, brows raised high as if in genuine surprise before turning back to the cashier. “No shit. For real?”

 

Kate stares at him, incredulous. “It’s on his _name tag_.”

 

The man blinks, leaning in as if just now noticing that there's even a name tag pinned to the front of the cashier’s vest. “Huh. How about that.” Squaring his shoulders, he looks the cashier up and down. The kid behind the register has a decent height advantage of a few inches, but the man staring him down somehow manages to be even more imposing.

 

Especially when he folds his muscled arms over his equally muscled chest — like he's doing now. The flames inked over his right forearm seem to twist this way and that as he flexes, like they're burning their way down to his wrist.

 

“Well, _John_ ," the man continues, completely unconcerned with correcting his mistake, "you're gonna take my fucking hundred, give me some goddamn change, and then we can all get outta here and go on with our miserable lives." He cocks his head, smirking dangerously like he's already won. "Right?"

 

The cashier glances at Kate, helpless defeat written all over his face. "I— I'll just go open up one of the other—"

 

"Fucking _hell_ ," Kate explodes, throwing her ten dollars over the counter. "Just _take_ the damn money, Dan!"

 

Apparently, her momentary outburst must scare the kid much more than all of the man's threatening glowering, because Dan grabs onto the money and pops open the register, finding the correct change with alarming efficiency.

 

"Thank you for shopping at El Rey," he says in a terrified rush to the man, while dropping the coins into her palm. "Have a good night, sir."

 

" _Finally_ ," she mutters, shoving her basket along the belt and at Dan.

 

The man in front of her doesn't move.

 

"Excuse _you_ , princess—" he starts to say, uncrossing his arms.

 

She sighs, watching Dan scan her own purchases — two pints of Ben & Jerry's. "Look, guy, I get it, okay? You're an independent adult, you can afford your own beer. Whatever, it's ten bucks. Just take it as a favour from a very exhausted fellow customer who just really wants to go home and inhale one of these in, like, fifteen minutes flat," she says, gesturing towards the ice cream tubs as she hands Dan another ten-dollar note. She pauses to glance up at the tattooed man still staring her down, offering him a careless shrug. "A little neighbourly kindness, okay?"

 

"Not familiar with the concept," he snaps, somehow seeming to be in an even worse mood than he was two minutes ago. "Well, you can bet your little ass that I'm fucking paying you back. Got a name?"

 

She huffs a disbelieving laugh, grabbing her change and her bag of ice cream as she turns to leave. "How about you just pay it forward, and we'll call it even?"

 

"I don't hand out favours, princess," the man informs her, still not budging from the counter so that she has to walk around him.

 

She shrugs, not bothering to look back. "First time for everything," she calls over her shoulder as she strides through the automatic doors.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  

Honestly, El Rey isn't the best of stores.

 

They stock a far wider variety of cigarettes and condoms than they do bread. Their fresh produce section is, frankly, outright laughable. At any given time, they only ever have about five or six kinds of cereal on sale — and they can't even be _consistent_ about it, considering it's never the  _same_ five or six kinds.

 

It's just the closest one to her that happens to be open late, so she usually ends up there at least once or twice a week.

 

That's what happens when you're struggling to juggle both college classes and regular shifts at a diner, she supposes. You tend to let things like toilet paper slip your mind. Which means you end up back at the store at eleven-fifteen on a Wednesday night, before you've even had time to change out of the clothes you've been wearing all day.

 

Grabbing the first pack of twelve rolls she sees with a 'Sale' sticker, she heads over to the checkout counter, the last one open at this time of night. It's not Dan behind it this time — but she kind of wishes it was, considering the stately pace at which the elderly guy is bagging the current customer's small pile of items.

 

"Well, fuck me sideways," a voice announces behind her, rough and low.

 

She turns, frowning in confusion.

 

She's not the only one, too.

 

" _What?_ " the man from before snaps, glowering at the other customer and the store employee. When they both shrug and turn back to their business, he gives a small, self-satisfied nod before directing his attention back to her. "If it isn't the Good Samaritan Princess."

 

She sighs exasperatedly, turning back around to face the front. "It was ten dollars. Not like I put you on my donkey and paid for your motel room."

 

"Say what?"

 

She glances back at him, her forehead crinkling. "Don't you know the parable of the Good Samaritan?"

 

"Yeah," he says dismissively, "some asshole is nice to some other asshole without getting paid for it."

 

She opens her mouth, and then closes it, turning back around again. "That's one way of putting it, I guess," she mutters, shifting her weight from one foot to the other with restless impatience. The old guy behind the register is _really_ just not the speediest bagger, and just _watching_ him move like he's stuck underwater is starting to make her antsy.

 

"So what's the good deed of the week for the princess, then?" the man continues behind her. "Rescue any kittens from any trees lately? Save any dogs from burning buildings?"

 

"You seem to be under the impression that I'm a fireman," she says, her tone flat. "I'm not, by the way."

 

"Shocker," the man says, shuffling up with her as the customer in front takes his bags and lumbers off. "Could've fooled me with those broad shoulders."

 

She ignores his snarky tone, and puts her toilet roll pack on the belt.

 

And then she freezes in confusion, blinking at the six pack of beer that appears beside it.

 

"Round it up, compadre," the man informs the elderly employee, leaning over to brace one hand on the counter.

 

She stares up at him, her jaw dropping. "Are you seriously expecting me to pay for your beer _again_?"

 

He snorts, stretching out a twenty-dollar bill to the store employee. "Never again, princess. Told you I'd pay you back."

 

She shifts, momentarily distracted by the sight of his flame tattoo, on display thanks to the pushed-up sleeve of his black Henley. "Well, points for good intentions, I guess." She pauses, frowning at the employee picking out change from the register. "But next time, could you maybe _not_ pay for my toilet paper? Because that's kind of weird between friends, let alone some guy whose name I don't even know."

 

To her surprise, he laughs, grabbing both his six pack and her large pack of toilet paper off the belt as they move off from the counter, hefting it lightly under his tattooed arm. "Good, because this is weird for me too. Paying someone back for a favour, I mean," he clarifies as they stop just outside of the doors. "Not the whole toilet paper… thing."

 

She nods slowly, not quite able to fully process what's happening. "Okay, well," she says, reaching out warily to take the large pack from him. She hugs it in front of her like a shield of a body pillow, looking him up and down cautiously. "Thanks, I guess."

 

His chin juts out at her, his gaze raking over the large pack ensconced in her loose embrace. "You gonna manage all right with that, princess?"

 

She nods. "It's not far."

 

And then she pauses.

 

Is it rude to just… say goodbye, and walk away now? Should she stay and make some kind of effort at polite conversation? What the hell are the rules for civil interaction with a stranger who's just paid for your _toilet paper_ in return for you paying for his beer?

 

He nods in return, the movement short and curt. "Right. See you around, then."

 

"I'm Kate," she blurts out, before either of them can take a step to leave. She clears her throat, not quite able to read the inscrutable expression on his face. "By the way."

 

He has an _impressively_ sharp jawline, she realises with a small start. She's never really looked all that closely at him before, considering she's been too busy trying to refrain from socking him in the face — a face that she's now noticing is structured to near perfection, underneath the slightly rough but trim beard lining the hard edges of his jaw.

 

He studies her for a long moment, one hand tucked into the pocket of his dark jeans, the other letting the six pack of beer dangle by his side.

 

Then, he gives another nod — the barest, gruffest dip of his chin.

 

"Seth."

 

She nods, turning the name over in her head. She shifts her grip on the toilet paper pack, blinking rapidly to snap herself out of her own thoughts. "Okay. Well. Thanks again."

 

He doesn't move; just stands there and _looks_ at her, a small crease etched between his brows.

 

She gives one last, hasty nod, and turns to walk away.

 

She doesn't turn back to check, but somehow, she knows without a shadow of a doubt that his eyes are on her, his gaze heavy on the back of her head.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kate doesn't drink all that often.

 

Which is why the one night in _weeks_ that she desperately needs a drink, the one thing that's missing from her apartment is alcohol in any shape or form. Because, of course.

 

So she throws her hair up into a messy bun, wraps herself up in an old sweatshirt of Scott's, grabs a ten-dollar bill from the back pocket of today's jeans, and drags her worn out ass down to the store twenty minutes before they're set to close.

 

Unfortunately, she only remembers her ID when she's already at the checkout counter. Because, again — of course.

 

"I'm twenty- _two_ ," she snaps at the lady behind the register. "I _swear_ , okay?"

 

The woman blinks at her, unimpressed. "Look, sweetheart, that probably works on everyone else, but no ID, no sale, all right?"

 

She draws a tight breath, her fingers clenching into hard fists at her sides as she tries to refrain from screaming right into the cashier's face.

 

Then, before she can decide _fuck everything_ and let that scream go anyway, a giant box of Cap'n Crunch suddenly slams down onto the belt, right beside the bottle of wine she's spent the last five minutes struggling to buy.

 

"I'll take the booze too," Seth says breezily, already thrusting a twenty at the employee as he comes up beside her. Kate blinks in surprise, whipping round to stare at him. With the generous dusting of scruff over his jawline, and the hard physique clearly outlined by his plain black Henley, no one could _possibly_ mistake him for being anything less than twenty-one.

 

A dark, challenging expression clouds over his face when the lady merely raises a skeptical brow at him. "What?” he snaps, his tone edged with authority. “Not like you're gonna sell it to _her_ anytime today, are you?"

 

Kate presses her lips together, fighting off the smile as she watches him literally _stare_ the lady into scanning both items.

 

"Thank you for shopping at El Rey," the lady deadpans, sliding the paper bag of cereal and wine over to them.

 

"Yeah, stay fucking peachy," Seth says, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly between Kate’s shoulder blades to give her a gentle nudge forward. She moves accordingly, but as they walk towards the doors, she turns back to cast one last baleful glare at the stone-faced cashier over her shoulder.

 

"What a _bitch_!" she exclaims the second they're out on the pavement, her hands waving sharply in accentuation.

 

Seth scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning upwards ever so slightly. "All right, princess, take your meds and calm down," he says, pulling his cereal box out of the bag before handing it to her.

 

"She did that on _purpose_ ," Kate insists, reaching out to take the bag automatically. "I've bought alcohol from her before. She _knows_ I'm of age!"

 

He cocks a brow as he tucks his cereal against his hip, the box turned sideways like it's just an oversized book. "So maybe she forgot. She sees, like, a thousand people come in and out every day. Who’s gonna remember them all?"

 

Heat prickles over Kate's neck when she remembers just how long it's been since she last bought a bottle of wine. "Well, she didn't have to be so _patronising_ about it," she grumbles resentfully, shoving one hand into the large pocket stretched over the middle of her sweatshirt.

 

Seth shrugs, the cereal rattling hollowly in its cardboard packaging with the movement. "Well, not that I don't agree," he says, looking her up and down, "but it's not like you're looking particularly… mature."

 

Her eyes narrow on him. Yeah, she's in sweatpants, her face is scrubbed clean of makeup, and her hair's just a dishevelled mess on top of her head — but she's fucking _mature_ , okay?

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demands, yanking her hand out of her pocket to plant on her hip.

 

"Whoa," he says, holding up a hand, his expression distinctly more amused than surprised. "Just saying. If I didn't know better, I'd probably assume you were still in high school or something, too."

 

"I'm _twenty-two_ ," she repeats. Very maturely.

 

He raises both brows, the expression on his face _definitely_ leaning more towards amusement. "All right, princess. No arguments here."

 

She stares at him for a beat — and then sighs, dropping her hand from her hip.

 

"Sorry," she mutters, brushing a lock of hair that's escaped her bun out of her eyes. She blows out a breath, nodding slowly to pull herself together. " _Sorry_. It's been a rough day." She huffs a mirthless laugh, shaking her head. "It's been a rough _week_ , really."

 

He watches her, squinting slightly as if trying to see right into her head. "Yeah, kind of figured that when I was the one stepping in to stop you from bullying the poor sucker stuck on the late night shift instead of the other way round."

 

She laughs again, the note of bitterness in the sound noticeably absent this time round. "Yeah, that's—"

 

She stops, staring wide-eyed at him. "Shit. Did I— oh, _shit_!" She jerks in a flustered panic, before shifting into motion again, starting to feel around her pockets. "God, I'm so sorry— I didn't even notice you paying for my— _how_ much was it again?"

 

His face shutters then, his expression closing off in an oddly familiar way, and he shakes his head at the ten-dollar note she holds out to him.

 

"Don't worry about it," he says, his tone suddenly and unmistakably brusquer than before.

 

"No, please," she says, taking a small step closer, her hand stretched out toward him with the money. "You already saved me from committing first-degree murder in a damn _grocery store_. I can't let you pay for my wine, too."

 

He shrugs, shifting his weight in a manner that evidently shows his sudden discomfort. "It's six fucking dollars, Kate. Just leave it, all right?"

 

"I can't just _leave it_ ," she says, scandalised. She takes another small step, shaking the money emphatically at him. "Here, just take the—"

 

He cuts her off with a deep sigh, his dark gaze meeting hers. "Listen, I get it, okay? You're an independent adult, you can afford your own drink." He shrugs again, glancing around them as if checking for eavesdroppers before looking at her again. A familiar smirk returns, smugness blanketing his chiselled features. "Just take it as a favour from a fellow customer who really wants you to have the booze you _clearly_ so desperately need tonight."

 

She rolls her eyes, unable to suppress her own smile. "All right, fine," she says after a long moment, tucking the money back into her pocket. She shifts the bag in her arms, reaching in with one hand for the wine bottle. "Here, at least take the bag with you—"

 

She looks up in surprise at the large fingers wrapped gently around her wrist, tugging it out of the bag.

 

"I think I can manage a box of fucking _cereal_ without a paper bag, princess," he says with a wry smirk, letting his hand drop from hers as he steps back, re-establishing the small distance between them.

 

She stares up at him. "Okay." Clearing her throat, she does her best to blink away the roaring in her ears. "Okay, then. Thank you. Again, I guess."

 

He shrugs carelessly. "Not like I put you on my donkey, brought you to the nearest hotel and got you a nice room with a warm bath and a hot meal."

 

Her eyes widen at that, her mouth falling open before she can help it. "Wow. You actually _read_ it."

 

He grimaces, but it's more out of embarrassment than actual disgust. "Me, read? Nah. Looked it up a bit, maybe."

 

A smile stretches across her face. "You actually looked it up, then."

 

"Yeah, yeah," he says gruffly, not meeting her gaze. "Don't make a thing out of it, all right? Sometimes I just... Google shit."

 

She nods, her smile still in place. "Okay, Seth."

 

He shifts from one foot to the other, glancing at her before clearing his throat briskly. "You gonna manage okay with that?" he asks, gesturing vaguely towards the bag in her hands.

 

She nods again, slowly this time. "It's not far."

 

He dips his head in acknowledgement, clearing his throat yet again before starting to turn away. "Yeah, all right. 'Night, princess."

 

"Goodnight," she says, his back already to her as he strides away.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"You know, you should really quit coming here so fucking late."

 

She raises a brow at him as they shuffle up in the short queue. "What?"

 

Seth shakes his head, nudging the basket forward with a vaguely irritable foot. "It's not fucking _safe_ , princess. There are crazy people out on the streets this time of night."

 

"In grocery stores, too," she adds idly, watching the cashier bag up the few purchases of the customer in front of them. "I heard that sometimes, when you forget your ID, they pop up out of nowhere and pay for your wine."

 

Seth scowls, hefting the basket in his hand up onto the counter as the cashier finishes up with his current customer. "See, this is why I don't hand out favours."

 

She snorts, helping him unload the contents of the basket as the cashier turns his attention on them. "Yeah, _this_ is why." She waves impatiently as he starts to pat his pockets for his wallet. "Stop that, I've got it covered. Before you start," she interrupts as he opens his mouth, "I _think_ I can handle your one box of Pop-Tarts."

 

" _And_ coffee," he points out sullenly, tapping on the jar of Nescafé beside the Pop-Tarts.

 

She shakes her head, already grinning indulgently despite herself. "Yes, Seth, I think I can handle your extravagant grocery splurges for the week."

 

He fidgets, clearly uncomfortable with having nothing to do while she pays for their items. "All right, fine, princess," he grumbles, gesturing for the cashier to bag his stuff separately from hers. "But I'm paying for shit next time, got it?"

 

Her nose wrinkles, even as she thanks the cashier for her change. "That doesn't make any _sense_. This is me paying you back for the wine you already paid for the _last_ time."

 

"Hey, I never pretended to be fucking _sensible_ ," he snaps. All the same, there's a slight slant to his tone that she now recognises as just the comfortable aggression of familiarity Seth seems to favour, rather than genuine, heated aggression.

 

"Well," she says serenely as they grab their bags and head for the door, "I think I can safely agree that you've certainly never done _that_."

 

He huffs a soundless laugh, shaking his head as they emerge from the store. "You gettin' smart with me now, princess?"

 

"I would _never_ ," she protests in a theatrical half gasp, making sure to look mildly affronted with one hand dramatically pressed to her chest. The effect is completely spoiled by the wide grin her face splits into at his unimpressed expression. She dissolves into helpless laughter, adjusting her hold on the large brown paper bag in her arms as she rocks up and down on her toes.

 

"Little liar," he grumbles, not an ounce of sincere displeasure to be seen anywhere on his face. He glances around the street, looking back at her with a small frown. "You walking home?"

 

She nods, only slightly surprised by the abrupt turn in conversation. "About a block or so down this way," she says, gesturing with her elbow. "You?"

 

She watches him cast around the darkened streets, lit up by evenly spaced circles of fluorescent yellow from streetlamps. Cursing under his breath, his gaze swings back to her, his brows furrowed. "Come on," he says, cocking his head. "I'll walk you."

 

The smile fades from her face. "Oh," she says blankly, not quite able to figure out if he's serious. When she realises that he most probably _is_ serious, she blinks hesitantly. "That's not— I mean, thank you, Seth, but it's really not necessary."

 

"Don't worry about it," he says gruffly, gesturing for her to start walking.

 

She doesn't move, too busy frowning at him in bewilderment. "No, really, it's not far at all—"

 

"I said don't _worry_ about it," Seth says, a little jerkily. He blinks then, his gaze flicking sharply to her as if he's suddenly remembering something. "Unless you— I mean, fuck, not trying to _stalk_ you home or anything here, okay? _Shit_. Look, Kate, just tell me to fuck off anytime and—"

 

"No," she says instantly, shaking her head. "No, it's not that. I just—" She swallows, looking up at him cautiously. "I don't want to bother you or anything."

 

"You're not," he says, his voice hard. He tilts his head at the pavement, prompting.

 

She nods, still a little dazed, and turns to start down the street.

 

He falls into step beside her, silent and stoic, but somehow, strangely comforting at the same time.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next time, she doesn't even make it into the store.

 

“Need a hand, princess?”

 

She looks up from her bent-over position on her hands and knees, struggling to gather her things where they're scattered out all over the pavement.

 

“I hate everything,” she informs Seth as he drops to a low crouch, grabbing her pencil case and her keys. “I hate everything, and everything _clearly_ hates me.”

 

He arches a dark brow at the remains of her split backpack, lying beside her in a crumpled heap on the ground. “Okay, but it really looks like maybe you just need a new backpack.”

 

“Everything hates me,” she insists mulishly, snatching a couple of her books off the pavement. “ _And_ I need a new backpack.”

 

He barks a laugh, both of them standing with an armful of her things each. “Definitely a night for more wine, then.”

 

She doesn't actually _intend_ to go for an extra bottle of wine. But then again, she also doesn't _mean_ to unload what practically turns out to be her entire life story on Seth.

 

But then he just slides a second bottle into the basket already half filled with the stuff from her backpack and moves on, all while silently nodding as she rails on about infuriatingly incompetent project mates that have absolutely no consideration for their peers with part-time waitressing jobs and therefore significantly less flexible schedules, and, well. Why the hell not?

 

"Two more weeks," she breathes when she finally reaches the end of her (strangely cathartic) rant. "Just… two more stinking weeks, and I never have to see _any_ of them again." She reaches out automatically, tugging lightly on his sleeve before she can even think about it. "Hey, grab me one, too."

 

Seth doesn't miss a beat, pulling an extra box of Kraft mac and cheese off the shelf along with the one he'd gotten for himself. "You graduating in two weeks?"

 

She hums dejectedly, reaching out to trail a finger along neat rows of marinara sauce jars. "I _wish_. Two weeks till this project's over. Classes don't end for another—" she pulls her buzzing phone out of her pocket, "—month," she finishes distractedly, squinting at the text alert. "God _damn_ it."

 

"Nathan fucked up the group report again?" he asks idly.

 

She shakes her head. "No, it's—" She breaks off, turning to stare at him incredulously. "Oh my God. Were you _actually_ listening?"

 

"What else was I supposed to do?" he retorts, but there's no heat to it. He gestures at her phone. "What's up, then?"

 

She sighs, bringing the phone up for another look at the message. "I have to cover for someone at the diner tomorrow." With a frustrated huff, she shoves the device back into her pocket. "They _always_ do this. Whenever anyone backs out last minute, _I'm_ the one who always gets called in. I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate the extra cash," she explains, her nose scrunching in displeasure. "But it's just _annoying_ , especially when it's happening every single week."

 

He shrugs, leading them over to the last counter open for the night. "So say no."

 

She gapes at him for a few long moments. "What?"

 

He glances at her, his brows furrowing in a sardonic frown. "'No'. Heard of it? It's kind of like the opposite of 'yes'. You _know_?" He barks a small laugh at his own pun.

 

It's enough to snap out of her stunned state, even if it's just to roll her eyes. "I can't say _no_."

 

He blinks. "Why not?"

 

She pauses, staring up at his challenging expression. Well… why _shouldn't_ she be allowed to say no to cleaning up other people's messes if she doesn't want to?

 

Pulling her mouth shut from where it's been hanging slightly ajar, she retrieves her phone from her pocket, smoothly swiping it to life with practiced ease. A few seconds later, she looks up, her cheeks flushed warm with accomplished pride. "Done."

 

The faintest glimmer of a smile appears on his face. He shrugs, and something about that one single movement somehow makes her feel even more validated than any 'A' grade she's ever gotten in college. "Good on you, princess. Really killing this whole independent adult thing."

 

She elbows him as they move up to the counter for their turn, snickering despite herself. "Yeah, I can't buy booze without an ID, but at least I can say 'no' to stuff now."

 

"Baby steps," he says breezily, turning away to nod at the cashier and gesture at the stack of reusable shopping bags hanging behind the counter. "We'll take one of those, too."

 

A minute later, they're walking out of the store with a brown paper bag each, and a green tote hanging from Kate's shoulder, with all the things from her ruined backpack piled into it.

 

Seth pauses abruptly halfway through their attempts to say 'no' in as many languages as they can, turning to face her so sharply that her laughter instantly dies down.

 

"Want a ride?" he asks, jerking his head in the direction of a black car sitting in a parking lot in front of the store.

 

She blinks, adjusting the strap of the tote so it's sitting more comfortably on her shoulder. "That's your car?"

 

"Yeah, stopped by here on my way home from work," he explains, the hand not occupied with his groceries slipping into the front pocket of his dark jeans. "Drop you off if you want."

 

She glances at the car and back at him, frowning hesitantly. "Are you sure? It's not even that late, I could just—"

 

He shakes his head, already digging a set of keys out of his pocket. "Just get in, princess."

 

 

 

She turns to him as they're pulling up in front of her building. "Thank you for the ride, Seth."

 

"Don't worry about it," he says, a hint of his old brusqueness returning to his tone.

 

She flashes him a smile and turns, putting a hand on the door handle to leave — but then he clears his throat pointedly.

 

"I'm going out of town soon," he announces without looking at her, his attention focused somewhere out through the windshield. "Not long; just for a week, maybe two. But yeah, whatever. Might not—" he breaks off with a cough, shaking his head. "Yeah. Just, uh— just to let you know."

 

She nods slowly, her gaze roving thoughtfully over his profile, the hard lines of his features creased in a small frown.

 

"Okay," she says after a few moments. She pauses, wondering what to say next. _'Goodbye, then'_ seems a tad too unfeeling. _'I'll miss you'_ doesn't seem like an appropriate response for someone she's only conversed with a handful of times, let alone someone whose last name she doesn't even know.

 

"Enjoy your trip," she finally settles on, after another long beat.

 

His head dips in a firm nod, and then he looks round at her, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Remember to get yourself that new backpack, princess."

 

She laughs, the sound a little breathless with how unexpected it is. "I will," she promises, pushing the car door open with a grin.

 

 

 

* * *

 

  

 

Kate knows it's more than likely that she won't see Seth again — for a really, really long time, if at all. That's just how things tend to line up when you break a solid streak of completely coincidental occurrences.

 

But it's been two weeks since she's last seen him, and the extent to which this one simple, inconsequential fact _weighs_ on her mind is, frankly speaking, strangely discomforting.

 

"Okay, but you realise what you're doing is essentially _haunting_ the store, right?" Scott asks conversationally as she wanders the feminine hygiene aisle, her phone pressed to her ear with one hand.

 

"I am not _haunting_ my grocery store, Scott," she says sternly, picking out a box of tampons with her free hand. "I _told_ you, I forgot to pick up a couple of things."

 

"Yeah, so this is just the third time you're at the store this week out of _coincidence_ ," Scott scoffs, the sound crackling slightly over the phone connection.

 

She huffs, replacing the box on the shelf when she realises it's not the type she wants. "Are you saying I'm forgetting things _on purpose_? Because that obviously makes my life _so_ much easier, especially during finals week, right?"

 

"Whoop-de-doo," Scott drawls flatly. "What the hell is the deal with this guy, anyway? All I know about him is that you run into him sometimes while you're out buying peanut butter, and that he owns a car. So he's probably not always at the store because he's just homeless or something, at least." He pauses. "Or maybe he lives in his car. How much _stuff_ was there in his car, exactly?"

 

"He does _not_ live in his car, Scott," Kate says firmly, reaching out to grab the right box. "I'm reasonably confident of that."

 

"What does he _do_?" Scott persists. "And why does he seem to _exclusively_ wear shirts that are all black? Maybe he's a hitman. How nice was the car?"

 

"I feel like at this point, you're just finding excuses to talk about cars," she informs him as she walks up to the counter. She may or may not cast a few discreet glances around on her way there. No harm keeping an innocent eye out, right?

 

"Maybe because I actually know _some_ thing about cars," Scott retorts, unapologetic. " _Unlike_ this Seth guy. Seriously, Kate, I can't believe you _got in his car_ without knowing jack shit about him. You could _literally_ be bleeding out in a ditch somewhere right now."

 

"Okay, well, _one_ , I doubt I'd take two whole weeks to bleed out, in a ditch or otherwise," she says skeptically as the cashier scans her item, digging for some money in her wallet. She hands over a ten-dollar bill, pausing when she notices the look that the elderly man behind the register is giving her. Maybe talking out loud about bleeding out while attempting to buy tampons isn't the best idea she's ever had.

 

"And, _two_ ," she continues, lowering her voice just a little as the cashier picks out her change, "it's not like I don't know him _at all_. I mean, you meet a stranger on Tinder or something, and it's not weird to just get in their car for a first date, right? What's wrong with getting a ride from someone I've already spoken to on multiple occasions?"

 

"Maybe he's a mob leader," Scott muses, clearly ignoring her in favour of his own fantasies. "You said he's Italian, right?"

 

" _Might_ be," Kate corrects, waving off the cashier's silent offer of a paper bag and just stuffing the box of tampons into her own bag. She flashes a quick smile in thanks and turns to leave the store, switching her phone from one ear to the other. "I said he _might_ be Italian. I don't know, I honestly can't tell. He's… ethnically ambiguous."

 

"Maybe he's, like, a real life _Goodfella_ ," Scott continues. "Maybe that's why he's all _mysterious_ and shit."

 

"Or maybe it's just 'cause I've never actually _asked_ ," Kate points out dryly with one brow arched, turning out onto the pavement as she starts towards her apartment.

 

"He can't _tell_ you, Kate!" Scott exclaims. "If he did, he'd have to _kill_ you."

 

She sighs, pulling her bag up higher onto her shoulder. "If he wanted to kill me, we'd actually have to meet. So."

 

"Yeah, that's another thing — how do you _not_ have his number?"

 

She throws her free hand up into the air, despite knowing full well that her brother can't see the exasperated motion. " _Should_ I have his number? We don't exactly have a regular let's-shop-for-peanut-butter-together schedule drawn up or anything, Scott."

 

"No, but you _want_ one," Scott snorts, before a muffled voice calls out in the background. "Shit, I gotta go. Tommy wants to jam a little, we're planning to debut a couple new songs at next week's gig."

 

She smiles, a burst of warm pride blooming in her chest. "Go, go. We'll talk soon, all right?"

 

"Love you, sis. Fuckin' show those finals who's boss!"

 

Laughter bubbles up in her throat. "Love you, too."

 

It takes about five seconds after she hangs up for the image of Seth's face to pop up again in her head.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Two weeks later, she drags herself into the store, worn out beyond belief and barely even able to stay upright on her feet.

 

She's been doubling up on shifts while she's on her last stretch of college. Once classes are over and done with, she's determined to find a job that will keep her out of the diner for good. For now, the extra padding to her account balance is more than comforting, but she wants to be safe. Who knows how how long she'll have to search to find decent work?

 

Unfortunately, it also means that for the last couple of weeks, she's basically resigned herself to sleepwalking through life.

 

She doesn't even bother with the basics, like bread or cereal, plodding straight towards the dairy aisle instead.

 

"Date night with my two favourite men," she mutters under her breath, dumping two pints of ice cream into her basket without even really pausing to check the flavours. "Oh, Ben, Jerry. I've missed you so."

 

"Same to you, princess."

 

She whips around at the familiar voice, the weight of her ponytail swinging into the side of her jaw. " _Seth!_ "

 

Before she quite realises what she's doing, she's already crashing into him — ice cream, basket and all.

 

He barely budges despite the weight of her body flung right into his, his arms going around her as if on instinct. "Jesus, Kate. I'm gone for two lousy weeks, and you're already back to seeing other men now?"

 

She half gasps in laughter, her arms tightening around his shoulders before loosening their hold so she can step back to grin breathlessly at him. "It's been a whole _month_ , you idiot."

 

"Yeah, been wondering where you were the past few times I was in here. Thought I was gonna have to start yelling at every other skinny kid working the late night register again to summon you out of thin air or something." He crouches down to match her height, large hands curled around her elbows to keep her in place as he inspects her face, his brows snapping together in concern. "You all right, princess?"

 

She nods, hastily brushing at the wetness gathering unexpectedly in her eyes. "It's fine, I'm fine. I just—" She sighs, taking another half step back so she can take in all of him properly, from his tousled dark hair to his concerned frown, down to his broad shoulders and the light outline of his muscled frame under his thin black Henley. God, seeing him standing right in front of her is like suddenly walking straight into a cool breeze after _days_ of being slowly crushed under the stiflingly hot, stuffed summer air. She almost can't believe how _good_ it feels. "It's been a _really_ rough week."

 

He studies her, his brows still knitted together in an appraising frown. "You wanna talk about it?"

 

 

 

They end up back at her apartment, with two pints of Ben & Jerry's and a fresh bottle of wine.

 

Before they leave the store, Kate offers to pick up some beer, but Seth just shakes his head and leads them over to the checkout counter.

 

"I think my fragile male ego can handle a couple glasses of sauvignon blanc, princess," he tells her dryly, already pulling out his wallet while the cashier scans their items.

 

She rolls her eyes, sliding a couple of bills over the counter before he can get it open. "In that case, I think my bank account can handle both Ben _and_ Jerry over here. After all, you're looking at the only two men I've never been able to refuse."

 

He shakes his head, but stows his wallet back in his pocket. "Two lousy weeks," he repeats, injecting a hint of mock disappointment in his voice.

 

"A full _month_ ," she reminds him with a laugh, putting out a hand for the cashier to drop her change into. "Don't worry, I'll let you carry the bag and everything."

 

Ten minutes later, they're at her door.

 

"Fair warning," she says as she fumbles with her keys, "I've barely had time to look in the mirror all week, let alone clean up around the place. So if you see anything that looks kind of gross, feel free to ignore it." She pushes open the door, turning to flash him a wry grin. "Aside from me, of course."

 

She can feel the way her hair and clothes are sticking to her skin, which is covered completely in a thin layer of dried over perspiration. After eight hours of running around the diner cleaning up after six-year-olds who prefer to eat their fries off the table instead of their plates, she's not under any illusions about the way she looks right now.  

 

He looks at her, his dark eyes focusing sharply on hers, his face melting into that same, familiar unreadable expression.

 

Suddenly, she realises that she _still_ has no idea what it means.  

 

"You look fine," he says after a long beat, his rough voice pitched ever so slightly lower than before, before stepping past her and into her apartment.

 

She pauses, blinking as her mind struggles to catch up through the haze of physical exhaustion. Pushing it to the back of her mind for later consideration, she shuts the door, turning to direct him to her small kitchen.

 

Once they're settled on the couch with a glass of wine and a spoon each and a pint of ice cream, everything Kate intends to say to Seth just sort of evaporates into fog in her brain, and she just sort of _hangs_ there, cocking her head at him and smiling thoughtfully around a spoonful of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.

 

He frowns at her over the spoon he's digging into the ice cream. "What? You're allowed to eat it straight from the tub, but I'm not?"

 

"I _paid_ for it, didn't I?" she retorts teasingly, before shaking her head. Pulling her legs up to fold underneath her, she sighs. "I never actually thought of this before, but… my couch is kind of small, isn't it?"

 

He raises a dark brow. "You're _just_ realising this now?"

 

She laughs, reaching out to steal the pint back from him. "It's not the _couch's_ fault," she says easily. "I think it's just you."

 

He leans back, as if offended. "You calling me fat, princess?"

 

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, you should really think about hitting the gym once in a while," she says, poking him in his _very_ muscled bicep with the blunt handle of her spoon. “You could definitely use some bulking up.”

 

He snorts as she passes him the ice cream. “I'll make a note of it.”

 

She grins, twisting round to prop one elbow up on the back of the couch, her body now properly turned to face his. “It’s not the couch, no. My whole apartment seems… smaller, somehow. It's not in a bad way, or anything.” She tilts her head in consideration, leaning her temple into the support of her palm. “I think you just fill everything up without even trying. Like empty space doesn't exist when you're around.”

 

He gives her that look again, the one she still hasn't quite figured out yet, his spoon stilling inside the tub.

 

She blinks hesitantly, suddenly hyper-conscious of the way she's holding her own spoon, the little bowl on the end hovering in mid-air. "What?"

 

He holds her gaze for a long moment — and then suddenly, he clears his throat, breaking away from her to shift forward on the couch, setting the pint and his spoon on her cruddy little coffee table.

 

"I need to tell you something."

 

Kate frowns, unable to decipher the peculiar weight in his tone. "Okay," she says slowly, leaning over to prop her spoon beside his on the corner of the tub. "Tell me what?"

 

He draws a deep breath, bracing his feet wide apart on her floor and his elbows on his knees, like he's getting ready to give her (or maybe himself) some kind of pep talk.

 

"Ever since I got back in town," he says carefully, "I've been to the store just about every other night. Not because I really needed to _get_ anything, or whatever. I don't know, I was just trying to— I mean, I was _hoping_ — ah, _fuck_ —"

 

He breaks off, his hands gesturing emptily in the bracket between his knees, like he's searching for the right words.

 

"You were hoping?" she prompts quietly. She's suddenly finding it rather difficult to take a proper, full breath. It's like something has physically lodged itself in her chest, right between her lungs.

 

He exhales, his shoulders rising and falling with the movement, heavy and shaky all at the same time,

 

"You’re… you were on my mind a lot," he finally says, his dark gaze trained somewhere in the vicinity of her jean-clad knee. He huffs a soundless laugh, shaking his head exasperatedly. "Pretty much every damn day, actually. It’s... it _was_ hard to focus."

 

Her nails are digging deep into the flesh of her palms, forming tiny crescent marks in the skin. "Seth."

 

"I know, I know," he exclaims in a rush, raking a rough hand through his hair. "That sounds— goddammit, this is creepy as shit, isn't it? _Fuck_. All right, maybe I should—"

 

" _Seth_ ," she says a little louder, leaning over to put one hand on his restlessly jiggling leg. It stills instantly under her touch, and his head whips round to stare at her in disbelief.

 

She smiles softly, a direct contrast to the way her heart is hammering away against her ribcage. "I really missed you, too."

 

The silence stretches between them, growing thicker and thicker by the millisecond — until it suddenly snaps.

 

"Fuck it," Seth announces abruptly, and before she can blink, her face is already gently but firmly cradled on either side by his large hands, his lips descending on hers with a hard, urgent pressure.

 

She leans into it instantly, moaning eagerly into the warmth of his mouth as the seam of hers opens for him without an ounce of hesitation.

 

Somehow, it takes barely two minutes for her to end up half draped over him. She’s already pushing up on her knees to make up for the difference in their heights, both her hands buried in the thick bristles of his hair in her need to get closer. He groans approvingly into the kiss, one hand dipping under the hem of her shirt to curl around her bare waist, the pads of his fingers pressing heatedly into her skin.

 

His other moves down, brushing over the curve of her ass to wrap itself around the back of her thigh, and before she knows it, she's being hauled right over his lap to straddle him properly, the kiss broken for a mere moment just so he can nip teasingly at her bottom lip. Growling at the playful giggle it elicits from her, he pulls her even closer against him before recapturing her lips, his tongue sweeping its way into the welcoming cavern of her mouth to stroke hotly against hers.

 

They're both smiling by the time they break apart, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. Hers is a full-on grin, soft but blindingly bright. His is dazed and not quite entirely intentional, judging from the way he's staring helplessly at her like he's been lost in the desert for days, and she’s a glass of the clearest, purest water.

 

She blinks, a thought suddenly surfacing in the pleasant haze currently drifting through her headspace.

 

"My brother thinks you're a hitman."

 

His brows shoot up, fingers squeezing reflexively on her hips. "Come again?"

 

She dissolves into breathless giggles, pitching forward to press her nose to his shoulder for a brief second before pulling back with a smile. "Sorry, I don't mean—" She shakes her head fondly at his expectantly cocked brow. "I just realised that I don't know all that much about you."

 

He seems to consider that for a moment, his brows tucking together. After a long pause, he looks up at her. "You have a brother?"

 

She nods, the smile on her face slowly stretching into a grin. "I have a brother. Scott."

 

He hums in acknowledgement, one arm sliding all the way around her back to draw her in closer. A few seconds later, he clears his throat.

 

"Do you want to go get some food with me?" He squints up at her, a playful curve lifting the corners of his mouth. "I mean food that _doesn't_ come in a can or a packet. Preferably in a place with no shelves or numbered aisles."

 

It's definitely not the most poetic date invitation she's ever received. Even so, she can practically feel her insides _glowing_. "So… somewhere that's _not_ a grocery store?"

 

His face scrunches at her little jibe. "Yeah, no, I was thinking more along the lines of food that's _already_ been cooked. You know, plates and shit."

 

She laughs, leaning forward to press her forehead to his. "Who would've thought you were such a romantic?"

 

"Yeah, maybe like a Denny's or something," he quips, grinning boyishly when she pulls back to punch him in the shoulder. "Kidding, princess, _kidding_!"

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  

Two weeks later, they walk back into the store hand in hand.

 

Far too deep into their discussion on whether white wine really _is_ healthier than red, they both fail to notice the vaguely familiar, skinny kid behind the last open register, jaw hanging wide open as he stares at them, eyes goggled.

 

They finally do notice him fifteen minutes later, when they're back at the checkout counters with a half-filled basket.

 

"Oh," Seth says in surprise as he sets the basket onto the belt with one hand, Kate's hand tucked snugly into the other.

 

She holds back the laughter threatening to spill from her lips, focusing instead on the way Seth's mouth curves slowly to form a wicked smirk.

  
"Hey, _John_."

 

**Author's Note:**

> holler out your girl [on tumblr](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com)
> 
> ice cream is cool and sweet and so are kudos/comments *shoots finger guns*
> 
>  
> 
> (EDIT: you can find an aesthetic for this fic [here!](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com/post/153741082771))


End file.
